Lack of Planning On Your Part...

does not constitute an emergency on mine.

I wouldn't think this would be hard to understand, but apparently it is. We are not drop-off sites. Tutors get paid by the hour. Tutoring centers charge by the hour. This is not the gym, it's not the rec center, the Boys & Girls Club, or your mother's house. We have calendars and schedules that are more important to us than your child. Some of us even have friends and spouses, maybe we have children, too! We certainly have lives. So, if your precious little baby has not gotten something done in a timely manner, it is not our fault and it is not our responsibility. I cannot even begin to count the number of times someone has come into this facility, and asked--nay, demanded--that we work with their child immediately! They don't care if we don't actually have any tutors fluent in the K'thvalgean dialect of Klingon. (Yes, I just made that up.) The fact that we can't help their child is proof that we are racist/bigots/Trekkie-phobes/mean/baby-eaters/seal-clubbers. Riiiiiight, because we don't like making money. We'd rather turn you away for no good reason than squeeze a couple hundred bucks out of you.
Most of the people who do this to us are not clients. They walk in off the street, look around the facility, make snarky comments about our decor, prices, and/or policies, and then act as though they are being magnanimous for deigning to speak to us without holding a lace perfumed handkerchief over their noses and mouths. When we tell them that we are unable to accommodate their requests, they begin their tirade.
Just this past week I had a couple come barging into the lobby, snapping their fingers and trying to talk to me through the (closed) receptionists' window. I am not the receptionist. I was just in the receptionist's office. Nevertheless, I did my best to discuss the lay of the land with these parents. As I do have administrative duties, and as I have been working here almost since the doors opened, I do know a thing or two about the rates, policies, procedures, and programs. Like your average gym, we do not simply let people walk in off the street. We have paperwork. We have managers with whom one must meet prior to service. There are agreements to make, schedules to consider, and so forth.
When I explained to these parents that while I understood that their child had a test tomorrow, and that young Master Bates most certainly needed some assistance with the History of Cauliflower, there were no Vegetable History tutors scheduled that night and I didn't know of any who were available on this short notice. Mr. and Mrs. Bates were incensed and explained to me that this was unacceptable and if I weren't an incompetent nitwit, I would get on the deleted phone and call some censored people and make sure that someone got his or her redacted into our penny-ante unprintable facility immediately to help their precious baby boy.
Anyone who works in customer service knows how irritating "That's unacceptable!" is. In all honesty, this phrase is more likely to damn you in the eyes of the service people than a steady stream of profanity. These days, vulgar language is like litter: it's everywhere and no one really notices anymore. However, sayings gleaned from '90's management philosophy books are the same trite nonsense we've been hearing for many, many years and we're frankly damn well sick and tired of it. We've heard it enough from our bosses, many of us left the corporate world to get away from that silliness, and hearing it infect the everyday world is enough to send us all running for the hills. So, please believe me when I tell you that if you tell a customer service representative in any store, restaurant, or business "that's unacceptable!" or "failure is not an option!" or "mistakes are not tolerated!" or reference the moving of cheese in anyway, you will only succeed in making a highly negative impression on the person to whom you speak. We will remember you, your image and your whining, angry voice branded into our minds, and we will remember that you believe that you are above not only the rules of etiquette and common decency, but the laws of thermodynamics as well, specifically the one about creating something from nothing. So, please for the love of whatever you hold holy or sacred, just stop.
And, shockingly enough for those of you who fall into the above category, regardless of the feelings of the person in question, the truth does not care if it is acceptable, printable, convenient, or likeable. And none of us in the customer service enjoys telling a potential customer or client that we can't help them. It's lost revenue, and no one likes this. We lose bonuses, we lose scheduled hours, and we lose the chance to make a difference. We are genuinely unhappy when we have to turn someone away. We don't do it lightly. We don't do it when we can possibly avoid it. We are greedy capitalist pigs and we like money. We want to be Tutor of the Month, because we want that $100 bonus.
Anyway, Mr. and Mrs. Bates had nothing but rude things to say to me, as I stood there with the fake Customer-Service smile plastered on my face, one part of my brain thinking about what it would feel like to--just once!--fight back while another part repeated the Litany Against Rage (lesser-known than the Bene Gesserit's Litany Against Fear) while a third part said, bemused and slightly bewildered "I'm so glad I went to college for this." My reptilian brain just wanted a Twinky and my creative side considered if the National Endowment for the Arts would endorse a mural made of blood and brain matter. Eventually Mr. and Mrs. Bates stormed off, saying we shall never hold their custom! Never! They would go to the Swanky Overpriced Tutoring Center instead.
Oh, heavens no. Please don't go! We'll do anything! We didn't mean to drive you away! Look, we'll cancel all our other appointments and go kidnap an appropriate tutor and force them, at gunpoint if necessary, to tutor your precious baby if only you'll promise not to go! is what I did not shout as I watched them struggle to open the door that's always locked. (Why do we do this? Why is one door only for show?) They eventually figured out their error, cursed the door and suggested it do something utterly impossible with itself (as it lacks the motive power, flexibility, and requisite anatomy) before storming off in search of someone else who would be willing to endure hell for the sake of $100 or so.

God help the child these people have conceived. He never had a chance.